Mindreader
by ParaCaerOuVoar
Summary: Mindreading is a power with a lot of leeway, but sometimes you find out things you don't want to, and things that are best left unsaid.
1. Who?

This is the first in a series of 100 unrelated oneshots about Matt, for lj's 100heroesfics. Update may be sporadic at best.

First up, #76, Who?

--

Who am I?

I'm tired of running away from the lives I've created.

I remember a time when my life was normal, when I was just a nobody cop living in LA, directing traffic ten feet away from a murder, my job to keep people away from the yellow tape, never to go behind it. Back then I had a wife, someone who loved me, despite my mundane job and life. We were going to have a baby together, we had created a life that was ours to care for and nurture. And then this happened. Someone stuck evolution on fast forward. My wife had cheated on me, and worse, I found out about it in the worst possible way. I left, running away from my life, creating a new persona. I was still Matt Parkman, but a new Matt Parkman. No longer a married man, a husband, a father, I fought to save the world and took four bullets to the chest on Kirby Plaza.

Again, I worked hard to rebuild my life after the shooting, becoming a detective with the NYPD, taking guardianship of Molly Walker, living in an apartment with Mohinder Suresh to look after her, to keep her safe. I became a family man once again; I became a father of sorts.

And then I met Daphne, and my life changed again, for the better, I thought, until I watched her die in the future and watched her die in the present.

I took on a new mission, accepting my fate as a nameless assassin. Until I found my son, Matt Parkman Junior, and in him I found my identity.

Who am I? I am Matt Parkman, for better or for worse, in life and death, until I'm old and grey. I am a mind reader, I can find out your deepest darkest secrets. I am a future teller, I can pait the end of the world and the start of a new one.

Who am I? I'm me.


	2. Passing

Sorry it took me so long to update this, I completely forgot. Oops.

Anyway, the prompt this time is Passing. Enjoy!

--

_A smile. That's all it took to save someone's life. Or did it? I guess I'll never know._

_I guess we never really know what impact we have on someone else's life. A smile from a stranger; could it really save your life?_

He walks down the street, glancing from side to side furtively, as if daring someone to look back, give him an excuse to go medieval on their ass. He pulls his collar up, shielding his neck from the elements, the steady stream of drizzle pouring from the sky, even that can't stop the onslaught of shoppers in New York City though. They plough through with their umbrellas, every colour under the sun. Just another excuse that he can't do this anymore. People don't appreciate him, don't notice him, he might as well be invisible. He has no wife, no child, everything's gone, all because God gave him a gift. A gift? No. A curse.

Then he spots her, wandering through the rain, no umbrella, not even a coat to protect her clothes from the damp. She walks along, her short blonde hair plastered to her head, her clothes sopping, her bright red jacket limp. And yet she doesn't seem to care. He watches her dance gracefully through the throng, people parting as if by magic. She catches his eye and smiles, small, even, white teeth gleam at him. All he can see is this smile; it seems to expand, filling his vision.

And then, suddenly, it's gone, like the woman herself, gliding through the crowd as if on wheels. He watches her leave, until even her vibrant scarlet jacket vanishes into the heaving mass of black suits and thick coats.

Returning to his original purpose, he slinks into his apartment block, dripping into the cramped elevator, beginning the long climb towards his lonely apartment, and the fate that awaits him. The elevator dings, signaling his arrival. Pulling the key out of his pocket, he unlocks the door before hesitating. Is this dingy room the last place he wants to see? No.

Closing the door again, he pads up one final floor, pushing the creaking door open onto the roof. The wind buffets him, making him sway on the tarmac. He makes his way over to the edge, clinging to the railing as he steels himself for the final fall.

Suddenly she's back, flashing into his head like a forgotten dream now remembered. He remembers her slime, and, he suddenly doesn't feel so bad any more. Maybe there is something in this dark damp world of his. Something more than divorce payments, child support for a baby he couldn't see, a dead end job, an ability he didn't want.

This woman, passing him in the street, she had been in his life for mere seconds, and she had changed it, turned it around completely. The metal feels so cold under his fingers, and he releases the bar, clenching and unclenching life back into his hand. Lightning flashes, and he wavers, poised on the brink, fighting to keep his balance.


End file.
